In Un'Altra Vita
by FatherJerusalem
Summary: Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; - Yeats "The Second Coming"
1. Chapter 1

Title: In Un'Altra Vita

Author: FatherJerusalem

Characters: Logan and Veronica, appearances by various and sundry others.

Spoilers: Let's just call it everything and be cool with that.

Rating: Er… PG-13? I guess?

Notes: This is my first ever fic. Please be gentle.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas', not mine. I'd be nicer to them.

* * *

**Then**

He knows sleeping with Madison was a mistake, a regret that he'll never be able to correct to Her liking. He can't explain why He did it, other than He was drunk and lonely, the holidays have been a bad time for Him since Lilly died, made worse by His mother's suicide and His father… well, the less said about His father the better. He tries to explain why He did it, not looking for forgiveness, but to make Her understand the soul-aching loneliness He had been feeling. She's as mad as He's ever seen Her, does He understand just how much She hates Madison? She yells at Him. He can't bite off his reply, does She understand just how much He hated Duncan? Duncan who was His best friend, Duncan who was there every day at the Hut making sure She knew he was there, waiting for Her to drop Him like a bad habit and run off together into happiness and sunshine.

She's shocked, She knew He and Duncan's friendship had been strained by Her and Duncan dating, but this badly? He tells Her that the only reason He moved in with Duncan was so that He could see her every day, that the pain of knowing She was with Duncan was overridden by the sheer sensation of seeing Her, of being near Her. He tries to explain that Madison meant nothing, that He was so drunk when he slept with her that it could have been a goat in his bed and he wouldn't have been able to tell. She, alas, is not amused. He tries to explain that summer, unable to deal with His father killing His girlfriend, wondering every day if the killer genes were passed down to Him, unconsciously driving Her away to keep Her safe from Him if he did snap, because the thought of losing Her is unbearable… even with Duncan He knows She's still alive, at least, and He doesn't have to worry about every heavy blunt object They come across, wondering if this is the time He can't resist His father's legacy.

She tells Him that She can't do this, She needs time to get over Madison.

He tells Her that He's sorry, that of all the things He's done In his life, this is the one He regrets most, that whenever She's ready He'll be here to work things out.

A few days later She starts dating Piz.

He hasn't touched alcohol since That Day, unwilling to make another mistake and cost him another chance with Her. The news of Her dating The Pissant, His cute pet name for Piz, drives him to the liquor store. He stands in front of the tequila selection, wondering which tastes most like Oblivion.

Wallace asks Her what the hell She's doing, why she's playing this game with Piz when he knows how She feels about Him. Wallace knows Her hatred for Madison, but he tells Her that everyone makes mistakes, that He owned up to His. Wallace and Him have never been friends, really, but they have bonded somewhat over the last year over a mutual love – though brotherly in his case because, uh, ew – of Her and a mutual hatred of that stuck up bitch Angie, and he knows that He loves Her over anything else In His life, he knows that He would give anything to be with Her, and that She – as much as She may deny it – feels the same way. Wallace knows Piz has had a crush on Her since the day they met, and that Piz has just been sitting there hoping for Them to break up so he could swoop in and have a chance with Her.

She tells Wallace She knows, Piz isn't exactly the master of subtlety he tries to be, but that She can't deal with Him right now. She's well aware that everyone makes mistakes, She tries to shut down the flash of memory that accompanies the admission, a false accusation against Him, turning Him in to the police, setting in motion events She couldn't have forseen – beginning with the revelation of His father as a killer and ending with a bridge and a bloody knife.

She admits that the real reason She's with Piz is because She's scared, not scared that He'll slip again, but scared that He won't, that He loves Her so much that He'll do anything in His power to prevent another slip. She knows that being with Him isn't easy, it isn't quick. It's not a relationship she can extricate herself from and move on from without looking back. She's not even twenty yet, She sighs at Wallace, She should be out doing teenager things, girl things, having fun not looking at forever in the eyes of Her boyfriend. She's missed so much of _life_ in the past two years, first finding Lilly's killer and then with the bus crash, she's been so focused on crime and noir and darkness that she's forgotten that there's more to life than that, and Piz is fun, Piz is easy (not like that you perv, She sighs), Piz is uncomplicated – She won't wake up in the middle of the night curled up next to him in bed and _know_ that this is right, that this is the rest of her life. When She's had enough, She can just walk away, and Piz will let her because he's not as dumb as his haircut implies.

Wallace just graces Her with a look, no one can give Her shit like family – even if Wallace isn't technically family yet (though a rumor on the grapevine – ok, from Her snooping around, she's found the ring that Keith bought for Alicia - dictates that the "technically" may be removed fairly soon). Wallace asks Her if He knows that, if He knows that all He has to do is sit on His hands long enough and She'll come back to Him, when She feels She's ready. Wallace asks Her if She knows how patently unfair that is to Him, that She screamed at Him for sleeping with Madison, and yet here She is dating Piz less than a week after Their blowup in his hotel room.

She knows Wallace is right… She's holding Him to a double standard that He cannot hope to meet, and that She's being amazingly immature about it. She'll wait a couple more days, let things settle a bit more, and then She'll go and talk to Him and ask His forgiveness and then They can get on with the business of planning Their lives together. She knows, now, that She can't bear to be away from him and if He'll give Her another chance, She'll grab hold with both her tiny hands.

Days pass. He hasn't shown up for classes or answered His phone and She's starting to get worried. She knows He doesn't take college as seriously as She does, He always jokes about being a "trust fund kid" and says He don't need no education and hey, teacher, leave this kid alone. She still worries. She worries more when Dick tells Her he hasn't seen Him, the last time he saw Him was when He found out about Her dating the Pissant. She hangs Her head and mutters under her breath about how that was a mistake. Dick almost has a heart attack on the spot.

Its been too long, so She grabs Wallace and heads over to the Grand, determined to see Him, to talk to Him, to make Him Hers again – for forever this time, damn being young and oat sewing. Nobody comes to the door when She knocks, so She lets Herself and Wallace in. The hotel room is bare, no signs of life in the living area. A quiet feeling of fear comes over Her as She heads to His – Their – bedroom.

The only thing that greets Her is an empty bottle of tequila on the end table. And a note.

"_Goodbye"_

Her mind goes blank, She doesn't remember falling to Her knees or Wallace trying to hold Her up. She doesn't notice Wallace calling Her father, or Her father showing up to take Her home. All She knows is He's gone… and He didn't take any of His stuff with Him.

* * *

_And Then…_

A week passes, She's missed all Her classes, bundled In her pajamas, not wanting to face the world without Him at Her side, Their hands clasped together.

Her father comes to Her one afternoon, telling Her he has bad news. The Coast Guard found His boat (_boat? She thought He got rid of all of Aaron's boats_), the newly re-christened _S.S. Sugarpuss_ (a flash of memory, standing in the lobby of a hotel, a fake wedding book in front of Her, Him standing next to her) abandoned in the middle of the ocean. She refuses to acknowledge the news – He can't be… He can't have done it. He knows the effect His mom's suicide had on Him… He can't have done that to the people who care about Him in return… But what if, Her father asks, He thought there was no one left who did care about Him?

* * *

_And Then…_

Months pass. His lawyers have Him declared legally dead at Trina's insistence, she figures there's money to be had and she could use more time in Jamaica.

A lawyer comes to Her house with some papers. The lawyer tells Her that He had amended his will only a couple of days before He… left. The will stipulates that everything He owned is to be left to Her – the money, the cars, everything. Including a package found in a safety deposit box, a small teddy bear and a necklace in the shape of the crest of St. Raymond Nonnatus – the patron Saint of the Falsely Accused.

* * *

_And..._

_Then..._

She takes the internship at the FBI, She can't handle Neptune any longer. She's avoided Piz like the plague since That Day, She blames him for what happened. She knows it's not his fault, but She needs someone to blame and blaming Herself means it's Her fault and oh god She killed Him and she…

She goes away to Quantico, broken, and not knowing if She'll ever be able to be whole again. She throws Herself into the internship, if She can focus on the work, She can forget His cocky grin, His smell, His smile, His body leaning against Hers as They watch a movie and make out.

It doesn't work – She can't forget those things, and She doesn't want to.

* * *

**Soon**

A book is released. It's the story of a precocious blonde teenage girl who solves her best friend's murder, even though the entire town is against her. Critics say that, though admittedly well written, it's nothing more than a knock off of the Lilly Kane murder case.

Keith and Alicia get married. After the wedding they're going through the gifts and find one that has no card. Inside is a small crystal sculpture that plays pictures of Wallace, Darrell, and Veronica. Engraved on the statue is the word _Family_. A card is found stuck to the bottom, three words are written on it.

_ Congratulations_ and _Thank You_.

The next year another book is released, starring the heroine of the first novel. This one has her investigating a bus crash that kills several classmates at her school – including her boring, bland, dimwitted boyfriend Mike Stoshnarski. The scene with his death, body impaled on the sharp rocks below the cliff where the bus drove off is incredibly graphic and descriptive – almost gleeful.

No one knows who the author is, the books are written with a pen name and even the editor doesn't know his or her true identity. Hollywood is confounded, these novels seem almost written for the screen and yet they can't be adapted because the author can't be found.

She's given the majority of His money away to charities, including several who help prevent child abuse. She never told Him She knew, but She _was_ a private detective after all. She doesn't know what She wants to do with her life – the internship at the FBI was informative, but spending the rest of Her life tracking down the scum of the earth? She was a soccer player when She met Him, and a private detective when She lost him. She wants nothing to do with either, now.

Wallace is injured in a car accident. He's fine, for the most part, but his knee is wrecked and he can't play basketball anymore. His scholarship to Hearst is revoked and he's about to drop out when the Financial Aid supervisor comes to him and tells him that his tuition has been paid in full.

A new novel, continuing the adventures of the spunky blonde detective, though no longer a teenager, is released every year on the same day, August 16. If She knew about the novels, She'd recognize the release date. It is, after all, her birthday.

By now, the novels are wildly popular amongst those that would read such things. She won't, of course. Why read fiction when your life has been real after all, and the dedication in the fifth makes people wonder. Is it to someone? Some sort of secret code that will eventually reveal the author's identity? No further clues are given and people continue to wonder, to no avail. The dedication reads simply: _V_

Wallace is sick. And bored. And bored of being sick. He and his girlfriend have moved in together and so he peruses her book collection, looking for something to take his mind off of the cough that will not die. He grabs the latest adventure of our intrepid heroine off the shelf, thinking it looks dumb enough and maybe he'll be able to laugh at all the fake, crappy detective work in the book. He has, after all, been trained by the Master (or rather "Mistress" but again… ew) in the detecting arts.

The book, this time the heroine has to bring down the O'Conners an Irish gang who killed her latest boyfriend, creates a tingle in the back of Wallace's mind. The descriptions of the small town of Hermes, Florida seem familiar, not to mention the heroine and her BFF turned stepbrother. Wallace asks his girlfriend if she has the rest of the series, and he can't help but feel the intense sense of déjà vu as he reads the fictional version of Lilly Kane's murder and his first year in Neptune, and then the bus crash… and the evil mayor of Hermes, Mr. Thomas and then the rapist on the college campus from the third book… the death of fumbling, awkward, incompetent Deputy Naif in the fourth…

Wallace calls Her, asking Her if She's taken up writing as a new career. The sigh on the other end of the phone tells him that She has not, in fact, done any such thing; he wonders if someone else from Neptune has taken up a new hobby, but he can't figure out who would write about the tiny spitfire of a detective with such reverence if she was really based off of Her. The only person he can think of has been dead for over five years.

She never marries and doesn't date. At twenty four she's a beautiful young woman who many guys have tried to ask out. Every last one is met with a flat, unfeeling, no. She refuses to let anyone new close to her, why bother investing time in someone when they're just going to leave Her in the end. She has dinner with Mac twice a month, with her father and stepmother and new baby sister every week, with Wallace whenever they get together. Her friends and family are worried for her, worried that at twenty four her life seems to be over, and there's nothing they can do about it.

Her only solace is in her work, running a shelter for abused women and children. She hopes that by helping others that way He and His mother were unable to be helped She can prove to Him that She does care, that She did love Him, and that She will always love Him for as long as She lives.

Every year on His birthday She drinks an entire bottle of vodka, the same brand He left on His end table. Every year on the day of His disappearance (She refuses to acknowledge it as the day He died) She wonders if this is the year She has the strength to take the next step – She already has a boat, bought under a fake name that nobody knows about, but this year, again, the _S.S. Jackass_ stays in its berth.

She stares longingly at tall buildings and bridges, thinking nobody notices. She's wrong, her family notices but they don't know how to stop her.

* * *

**Now**

Hollywood is still trying to adapt the novels into a series of movies, agents trying desperately to find out the identity of the mysterious writer, knowing that the one who manages to track him (most people are fairly certain that it's a him now) down will be able to have blank checks written and thrown at them by every major studio.

A rumor is placed on several industry websites, saying that one studio is close to getting the rights and that they want Hayden Panettiere to star as the lead.

An email is sent to the head of the studio stating that they can have the rights, but in no way shape or form is Hayden Panettiere to be allowed anywhere near the movie. The author of the email demands final casting approval on every part or he'll take the deal elsewhere. The studio head dismisses the email as a hoax.

A week later, an agent and the novel's editor hold an auction for the rights to adapt the novels, every studio is invited to bid – except for the studio that wanted to attach Hayden Panettiere to the movie. The terms are non-negotiable, full script and casting approval. The rights are sold for three million dollars – three times the amount of the initial four Harry Potter movies.

She finally gets around to opening the care package Wallace sent her months ago, taking out the first book and staring at it. She calls in sick to the center (being the boss does come with its own set of perks) and sits down, quickly reading through the book – she recognizes even quicker than Wallace that it's the story of Lilly Kane… almost exactly the story of Lilly Kane. Right down to the accusation of the heroine's makeout buddy that he lied about his alibi and the heroine's father threatening him on the beach.

She never told the beach detail to anybody.

She tosses the first novel aside, grabbing the second; flipping through the pages, a dawning sense of recognition again streaking its way across her face. The bus crash… the murder of a local biker… the local mayor sexually assaulting the members of the little league team… the murderer screaming "MY NAME IS JESSE" at the heroine before stepping off the roof and committing suicide… The smell of bacon and toast permeating the house the morning after the confrontation as the girl wonders how she'll survive without her daddy before his reveal that he wasn't on the exploding airplane at all…

The smell of bacon and toast has been ingrained in Her memory of that morning since she woke up and saw Him trying to cook something, trying to do anything to make Her feel better when She thought Her dad had died.

She doesn't read any further, She's already hoping too much, dreaming too much. She doesn't need more forcing its way into her thoughts. It's impossible. He's dead. He died years ago, taking Her with Him.

But.

They never found a body, did they?

And the note… it just said "Goodbye" not "I've gone to kill myself, ta."

The crystal sculpture Her parents' (She blinks to Herself at the thought, automatic, of Her dad and Alicia being "Her parents") wedding… a gift that no one knows where it came from.

She has to know. Even if it's... nothing, even if it's… just a string of highly unlikely coincidences, she has to know.

Wallace is worried that She's setting Herself up for a fall, there's no way it's Him. He's dead, and Wallace worries about what will happen to Her if she tracks down the author and it's just stupid Dick Casablancas, or Carrie Bishop, or some other person from Neptune who hasn't even given a thought to their actions.

She knows exactly what will happen, She just doesn't tell Wallace. The note is already written, just in case. But She can't help it, She has to know.

She leans on the head of the studio, mentioning some pictures that were taken with a prostitute. The studio head scoffs, everyone expects powerful men to occasionally visit a prostitute, it's not even a scandal anymore. Then She mentions that no, visiting _female_ prostitutes wouldn't be a scandal. The studio head lets her have the email the author has been using to submit approvals.

The email is secure, the new employee at Her dad's office can't break it. She sighs and takes the email address to Mac. Mac has the user's information in less than an hour. Its registered to the author of the books, no phone number given… but the address… the address is less than twenty miles away.

Twenty miles? Is that it? Is that all that's been between Them all this time? A new feeling of rightness settles in Her body, She's more animated and lively than Mac has seen in years, but Mac can't help but warn Her that it might not mean what She thinks it means… it might be a hoax or a particularly vicious prank… she warns Her not to be too hopeful, but knows her advice will go unheeded.

Those twenty miles are the longest She's ever driven. She's intent, focused, not sparing a thought at the fear She might be wrong.

She pulls up to the small bungalow right there overlooking the ocean. She can see a light on through the closed curtain and knows that someone's home. There are no signs outside the house that it's Him that lives there, but She knows it is. She _knows_ it is.

She walks up to the door, heart in Her throat, palms sweating. No indications that whoever's in the house has heard Her drive up, but She knows He had to have. Maybe… maybe it's _not_Him… No. No. it has to be. It _has_ to be.

She dries her sweaty palms on her pants as She walks to the door, standing there, working up the courage to knock. She can hear someone through the door, standing on the other side, waiting.

She raises her tiny little fist to knock…

* * *

_A/N: The idea of Logan (or IS it, mwa ha ha) as a writer has been shamelessly stolen from the amazing fic "Full Circle" by the amazingly talented gertinator. I don't know gertinator, I've never spoken to her, and I have no permission to copy her idea. I can only hope that an appeal for forgiveness will suffice._

_A/N 2: The title "In Un'Altra Vita" (In Another Life) comes from the song by the same name by contemporary Italian composer Ludovico Einaudi, from his album I Giorni (The Days)_


	2. Author's Note

So, first off, I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who's taken the time to read this here thing of mine, and especially to everyone who's given me feedback. I really do appreciate everything that's been said.

This was originally designed to be a one-shot and just end right there where it ends because, well, I'm a dick. Sorry. But when I showed it to mah boo (who I really really hope won't read this because she'll axe murder my ass if she sees I called her that), she threatened to stab me in areas that are… shall we say… very sensitive to being stabbed… if I just left it like that.

Luckily I had already started thinking about a second, and possibly a third, part – well, not so much "part" as "companion" to this story, so I have ideas of where it's going to go, or at least, where it's starting to go where it's going to go. Unfortunately, next week is finals week, so I'm not going to be able to start working on writing until late next week at the earliest. So I'm sorry for that, but I hope that I can prove your patience worthwhile in the end.

Again, thank you to everyone as I go through the process of popping my fic-writing cherry.

(P.S. if you haven't taken the time and read vanessagalore's tremendously epic "Year of Living Dangerously", you need to. I'm not even joking. It's the best damn thing I think I've read In the history of ever. You can find it here on , or on her livejournal – which is the better place for reading it, frankly – at vanessagalore dot livejournal dot com - note, I don't get anything for recommending this to you, nor does she know I'm doing this, so uh, please don't murder me? kthnxbye)


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